


curled up next to you

by Unadulterated



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, MIT Era, POV Character of Color, naps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4009192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unadulterated/pseuds/Unadulterated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is perfectly capable of trying any sane human’s patience, even when he’s <em>sleeping</em>. James still cares about him, though.</p>
<p>Inspired by <a href="http://notfknapplicable.tumblr.com/post/103927779770/spockishot-thinking-about-ur-otps-napping-is-so#notes">this post</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	curled up next to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [not_applicable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_applicable/gifts).



Tony is perfectly capable of trying any sane human’s patience, even when he’s _sleeping_ ; don’t let anyone tell you different. Especially the kid himself.

The first time James pulls him out of his creator’s funk in the school’s labs and Tony decides he’s just going to crash at James’ dorm—Daniel, the roommate, is with his girlfriend this weekend—it only takes the few minutes James spends brushing his teeth and changing into pjs for Tony to completely disappear. Seriously: James leaves the restroom, steps back into the room and stops, blinking, because Tony’s not on Daniel’s bed. Or even James’ bed, which was unfortunately way more likely, if he had to guess.

James is pretty sure he’d have heard Tony lumbering back down the hall, considering how tired the kid looked, but he peeks out into the hallway again anyway. It would be _just_ _like_ Tony, too, dashing off to go tinker with that robot he calls _such_ affectionate names as ‘Dummy’ and ‘scrap metal’ even when he needs sleep if he doesn’t want to be committed to an asylum—

There are shoes poking out from under James’ desk. Shoes that aren’t his, and are even attached to _feet_ , it seems.

James leans over to look under the desk and there Tony is, looking even smaller than he usually does, curled up and tucked away.

“Tones, that’s not a bed,” James says, amused despite himself.

Tony grumbles at him incoherently. It’s more a moan, really, reluctantly and irritably acknowledging someone else’s existence when that person should really just _go away_.

James gets on his knees, just because Tony’s scrunched, sleepy face is too good to pass up. It’s been, like, five minutes and the kid is seriously sleeping already. “That floor is for feet, Tones, not for you.”

Tony opens one eye, just a slit. “Floor’s _comfy_. C’mon.” He seems to put forth great effort in extending one arm from his body’s cozy position and pats the carpet twice. His eye slides closed again.

James doesn’t say anything, because a) a tired Tony defies all reason and b) he’s trying not to crack up. Though mostly asleep, Tony seems to notice the hesitation and pats the carpet again insistently.

He doesn’t take the offer, because he is way too old to be sleeping on the floor like a little kid. They both are, actually, so James grabs Tony’s extended wrist and proceeds to haul him out from under the desk, Tony waking up just enough to squawk in protest and curl up like an angry cat when James dumps him into Daniel’s bed.

Getting Tony’s shoes off proves a fruitless effort, but James still counts the encounter as a win.

It’s actually strange that _that’s_ the first time it happens, because suddenly it seems that Tony, when he sleeps, falls asleep just about anywhere but an actual bed. Partially, admittedly, because he’s hardly ever near one. When an exhausted Tony wanders off, James finds him all over the place: under the most comfortable armchair in the common area, instead of on top of it. In his robot’s charging station, where _his robot_ should be. In the two-foot gap between the vending machine and the wall. When James is exceptionally lucky, he’s on one of the couches in the hallway of the lab building. When he’s exceptionally _not_ , he’s under one of the booths in the cafeteria and gets locked inside until he’s woken up by the opening staff starting up breakfast and a very distressed James.

One morning, as James leaves his dorm room at seven in the morning to head to the gym, there Tony is, sleeping by his door like a lost and lonely puppy. It’s all very sad, and James can’t decide whether he wants to laugh or kick this massive dork.

He does both. Snorts a little, kicks Tony’s shin. (It’s a very gentle kick.)

Then he sighs, goes back inside his room, and comes out with a blanket to dump on top of him.

If someone had ever told him that Tony Stark needed this much mother-henning—well. He probably would have believed them, actually. And probably would still have become his friend.

Which maybe says a lot about James, but as long as this kid he’s apparently adopted is okay then he can’t find it in himself to really mind.

James is never, ever going to tell Tony this— _ever_ —but he prefers it when Tony stops sleeping in places that James has to go hunting for him and starts sleeping on/next to wherever James happens to be.

Tony doesn’t seem to agree with him at first. The first time it happens, when Tony starts wiggling and snuffling in a way that makes James want to pat him on the head—he manfully resists, as the sound also means Tony is waking up—Tony stills alarmingly when he should be sitting up from his position sprawled across James’ lap.

James peers down at him, frowning. He is awake, isn’t he? “Earth to Tones?”

Tony _rockets_ away from him, ending up on the other side of the bed in about 0.3 seconds flat, leaving James to blink in confusion. “I’m sorry,” Tony says tightly. He’s doing that defensive posture that only really manifests when he’s tired: arms wrapped around himself, hunched shoulders, averted gaze. “Won’t happen again.”

“What?” James says blankly, because there he goes again, his brain off to where James can’t follow. It’s most likely because Tony isn’t using logic any normal person _could_ follow, though, so he says, “What exactly are you apologizing for?”

Not it’s Tony giving _him_ the confused look, which James doesn’t think is warranted. “I—I, uh, fell asleep? On you.”

James keeps staring at him. After several silent seconds, he raises his eyebrows. And?

“That’s, that. Um.” Tony’s gaze intensifies. “Aren’t you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

Tony blinks at him. “You’re—I mean. People usually mind. Really. They get all—you _know_.” Tony makes a gesture with his hands reminiscent of a C-list actor playing a wizard, or maybe a bear attack. Apparently this is supposed to explain _how people get_.

“Are you okay,” James says. It’s supposed to be a question, but doesn’t sound like one. Probably because he’s pretty sure he already knows the (rather unflattering) answer.

Tony makes a grumpy noise like the secret five-year old he is, but only about forty percent of Tony’s issues are actually his fault, so James just rolls his eyes and leans over to grab Tony’s arm and haul him back over.

“Go back to sleep,” James says, with unmistakable affection.

Tony obeys, curling up half in James’ lap—or mostly obeys, because, judging by the death grip he has on James’ shirt, he’s not actually sleeping—but James isn’t going to call him out on that.

James kind of sees what Tony meant, when Daniel walks into the room the next week after his photography class and gives them a weird look: Tony’s thighs over his, Tony stretched awkwardly across his bed and showing off a little skin where his shirt has somehow been rucked up. James looks up from his book and holds a finger to his lips, warning Daniel to be quiet. Daniel stares at them a moment longer and then shrugs, puts his film camera on the table, grabs his backpack, and heads out for a study group.

It’s a frequent thing, really, to the point James is beginning to doubt that Tony sleeps in his own dorm room—big, lonely, and luxurious: James has been there once or twice—at all. But James is a well-adjusted human being (unlike _some people_ ) who actually keeps semi-regular hours, so they’re not usually asleep at the same time.

Key word: _usually_ , because he can’t deny the evidence of the time Daniel came in and found them basically a mess of limp, sleepy limbs, color the only indication of whose belonged to who. He doesn’t actually know it happened himself until Daniel hands him the developed picture a week later— _it was artistic_ , he defends himself.

When Tony finds it, he says, “It looks like we fell asleep in the middle of some really acrobatic sex.”

“What,” James says, because _no_. Tony’s, like, _sixteen_.

(Years later, Tony repeats the sentiment, and this time James gives him a head-to-toe once over. “Sounds about right,” he says dismissively, and after the two seconds it takes for the joke to process, Tony makes an offended face and elbows him, but that only makes James snicker.)

It’s about the time he realizes his objection to Tony’s lewd suggestions is more about age than anything else that he understands why he likes it when Tony naps on or even by him. Even when Tony drools on his shirt or wrinkles his ROTC uniform or gets his hair up his nose—

“Love you,” James says softly to the mop of hair resting under his chin.

Tony stirs and blinks up at him sleepily, two big brown eyes that do funny things to James’ heart. “Whuzzat?”

“Go back to sleep,” James says fondly, tucking Tony’s face against his chest again and pressing a kiss to top of his head. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”


End file.
